Breaking mens’ bones is all well and good, but isn’t there something worse we can do to them?
When I’m having sex with men I always shout ‘WALLOP!’ upon ejaculation. It is definitely the best onomatopoeic word to announce my delivery, and it is also satisfyingly demeaning for the receiver. Of course, you wouldn’t commonly associate ‘wallop’ with the exchanging of fluids; it’s more of an impact sound, possibly relating to some form of breakage. But that’s very much how I feel when I deposit my warm man berry juice inside another male: l have broken them and there is nothing they can do about to it ha ha ha. This, I believe, is the core theme of the latest DC film Birds of Prey.
A dark and twisted reboot of the 1980s British sitcom Birds of a Feather, Birds of Prey tells the disturbing story of sisters Sharon Theodopolopodous and Tracey Stubbs, who are brought together by their mutual love for crippling men with blunt instruments. Choreographed by Trinidadian cricketer Brian Lara, the action scenes are packed with copious bone-crunching moments, many of which reminded me of my lustful encounters with strange men of the night, and the subsequent sad dog look left on their face after I yell ‘WALLOP!’.
In the film’s most poignant scene, Sharon and Tracy absolutely hammer the shit out of a poor chap with a bowling ball and a dumbbell, rendering him horrendously mangled and unable to walk, much like Stuart who came round last week.
Graphic though these scenes and my buggering exploits may be, Birdseye Fish Fingers is ultimately let down by a catastrophic lack of diversity. For all the talk of inclusivity, Sharon and Tracey seemingly only target straight, able-bodied white males, when there are plenty of disabled individuals who could have received a similar sort of beating. ‘Why didn’t they push that guy’s wheelchair over and dent his rims?’ I thought to myself in hindsight, as I dented the rims of someone called Alonso, God rest his soul.
Though Birds of a Feather does place the physical and mental crippling of men at the heart of its story, it ultimately feels like a missed opportunity to illustrate just how dreadful all males are, and why every single one of them deserves to be filled with my shame-inducing cock vomit.
Thunderbirds is in cinemas now.